“What can I get you?”
“Well, well, well, isn’t this interesting?” Axel asked.
She stared at him and took a breath. “Have you all come to your senses and brought my jacket with you?”
“Nope,” Buck said laughing.
“How long you been working here?” Draven asked.
“None of your business.”
Draven took a picture of her.
“What the hell?”
“Tell me, or I mail this to your father. I wonder if he knows that his daughter has a job.”
“Are you for real right now?”
“Five.”
“How do you even have his number?”
“He’s a lawyer, four.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Three. You better hurry.”
“Two.”
“Fine, fine. I’ve been working here a week. That’s all, a week. Don’t text him.” She reached over, trying to grab his cell phone, but he pulled it out of the way. “Don’t text him, please.”
He’d make her quit, and this was the one thing she could call her own.
“You’re a strange one, aren’t you?” Draven said. “What is it about this job?”
She shook her head, and he held the cell phone in his hand as if it was some kind of magical weapon.
“Stop, stop. Fine, I work here because I like it, and I hate being home. Happy?”
“I think she caved too soon. Her dad is a real sticking point, huh?” Axel asked.
“He and I don’t exactly see eye to eye.”
“Does that have to do with your stepmother?” Draven asked.
“You mean how he cheated on my mother with Hannah and now I’ve got to pretend she doesn’t exist? Yeah, that will really piss a girl off. Do you want to order?” she asked. Her hands were shaking.
“We could beat him up for you,” Draven said.
She glanced over the notepad, really tempted. “He’s not worth it.”
“He makes you angry.”
“A lot of things make me angry.”
“Like what?” Buck asked.
“Like the fact you guys are holding my jacket hostage. I miss it and want it back.”
“We’ve told you how to get it back,” Jett said.
“Look, whatever this is. I want no part of it. I have no interest in fighting with you or sleeping with you, or whatever it is you’re planning. I just want to get through the next year, what’s left of it. Now, let me take your order.”
You’re a liar.
You want more than to take their order.
You want to scream.
To fight.
To punish everyone who has ever hurt you.
To have someone you can rely on. Who won’t hurt themselves.
You’re alone.
She took their order, and she went and put it through. Coming back with the drinks, she placed them in front of the guys.
The sound of the doorbell had her turning and groaning. She’d avoided most of the groups at school. Today was her unluckiest day as a group of jocks took a seat opposite Draven.
“You don’t serve them,” Draven said.
“If their waitress is on break, which I see she is, I’ve got to serve them.”
The manager had been clear. The customers all came first. You stuck to your area, but if the waitress was on break, you served the table until she came out.
They all had each other’s backs. Walking through her tables, she served them, not wanting to deal with the jocks but seeing she didn’t have much choice. She finally stopped at their table.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“Well, well, well, look at you, Harper. It’s about time dirt like you knew your place.”
Gripping the notepad in her fist, she stared down at Ben. He was the captain of the football team and a real asshole.
Many times, when he walked past her, he either shoved her into a locker, a wall, or forced her to spill her books. He’d poured soda all over her bag one year.
She fucking hated him.
“What will it be?” she asked.
“You, on your knees, sucking my cock, dick-face.” He burst out laughing and held his hands up for his boys to slap.
****
“Don’t do it,” Buck said.
“Don’t start shit over them just talking,” Axel said.
Draven watched as Ben, hero of the football team, told another joke that involved Harper being on her knees for him.
He kept watching as Harper did nothing.
She took their jokes and their order, spinning on her heel to go. They whistled at her ass, and Ben stood up, grabbing his dick as if it made him look cool.
Draven wanted to hurt him, to feel his knuckles slam against the flesh and snapping his arm or even a leg. He’d love to send a message to the jocks to leave Harper alone.
She came back to their table, their food in her hands, and she leaned over the table, putting their burgers in front of them. The angle gave him a perfect view of her cleavage, which was pressed up against her uniform.
Those tits were for him and only for him.
“Is that all?” she asked.
“Don’t serve them,” he said.
“I’ve got no choice. If their waitress isn’t out, I have to serve them.”
“Harper, you only have to do what you want.”